My Brother
by Lady Fael
Summary: Tristan discovers that a man calling himself Robert DuGrey might be his older brother. How will he respond to Robert's presence? And what does this have to do with Rory? A lot, as it turns out. Trory. Review please! [In progress]
1. Robert DuGrey

My Brother

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Gilmore Girls. (I do own the characters of Robert, Rose and William, though not the idea of Rose and William, as complicated as that may seem.)**

**Setting: A few chapters away from Tristan being sent to Military School. Rory is dating Dean but isn't fiercely in love with him, Paris, Louise and Madeline all hate her.  
**

**A/N: Please please please please please please please please please please _please _review!  
**

"…said that his name was Robert DuGrey! I mean, has Tristan told you he had a brother? He didn't tell me either!" The blonde girl walking past Tristan was chatting animatedly with the redhead walking next to her, both their eyes wide and their cheeks flushed. Tristan was feeling extremely annoyed; he'd been passed by three groups like this already. He didn't get it at all. He didn't even have a brother! He watched the blonde lean in to her friend and whisper, "You can have Tristan, Jessica, but I get the new hunk!" The girls continued past him, giggling and throwing him glances. Tristan was in a sour mood and wanted to yell after them, "I don't even have a brother!"

"Wow, this is so _weird. _I mean, I can't deny that he looks like him, but did _you _know Tristan had an older brother? I didn't. Why wouldn't he tell us? There's nothing to be ashamed of; the supposed Robert DuGrey is a hunk!"

"And a flirt," a dark-haired, blue eyed schoolgirl commented dryly, clearly finding this attribute a bad one. She rolled her eyes at the blonde, preppy girl next to her and then lengthened her strides so that she put some distance between herself and Louise. Then she saw Tristan.

"Hey Mary," he greeted her with no intentions of stopping. All he wanted, after having a bad day, was to get home, flop down on his bed, and listen to his iPod, while drinking lemonade maybe. He'd failed a test, gotten yelled at by a teacher and dissed by a girl. And now all these giggling schoolgirls were talking in hush-hush tones about some Robert DuGrey claiming to be his brother. He didn't have a brother.

Tristan wanted to kick a can. He wasn't feeling in the least bit romantic, not even after seeing Rory.

But Rory had other ideas. She stopped and grabbed onto his arm as he passed by her, forcing him stop and look at her. She dragged him over to a bench set against the wall, taking them away from the flow of students going out of the school. Then she said to him, her eyes making contact with his, "Tristan, did you know that there's a thirty-year old man in the gym claiming to be your older brother and looking for you?"

Tristan blinked at Rory, slightly shocked. Up till now he could have believed it was all a joke. But now Rory was telling him again the same thing he'd picked up from the passing girls, so it had to be true. He trusted Rory in a weird way. "Um…not really," he admitted, pulling away from her and realizing his heart was beating fast. He may have not been feeling romantic before…"I'll go take a look," he told her with a typical, cocky, Tristan-grin. He waved and called, "See you Mary," at a scowling Rory.

Now, time to look into this Robert-DuGrey thing. It was a bit of a puzzler, because, as far as he knew, he didn't have an older brother.

(…)

Tristan arrived at the doors to the gym and pushed them open with his right palm, his left hand dangling uselessly at his side. And as soon as his keen blue eyes roamed searchingly over the gym area, he realized that what those silly girls had been saying was, shockingly, true. There, near the middle of the gym, stood a boy – a man – who looked to be about thirty, with gray eyes that flashed with the same kind of wit that Tristan's contained and sandy blonde hair that refused to be perfect and so was, in its own way, perfect. Tristan stood there in the doorway, dumbstruck.

Until the large wooden doors, no one holding them back, swung toward him and he was forced to duck into the gym.

Tristan saw no reason not to, and so he approached this man who looked so remarkably like him. He was in deep conversation with a girl around seventeen who clutched her books to her chest tightly and looked very red in the cheeks, her eyes making her look like she was about to faint. Tristan was impressed; even he couldn't make a girl react like that. But as soon as Tristan's footsteps pounded hollowly on the floor of the gym, the man looked up, saw him, and didn't look back at the girl once. (She left soon after, disappointed.) He had clearly realized that this was the Tristan he was looking for.

"Um, hello," Tristan called out hesitantly, unsure of how to behave around this strange man. He was too shocked to say any more than that. But the man, who Tristan vaguely remembered the girls referred to as 'Robert', beamed at him and had no hesitations in his manner whatsoever.

Holding his arms out wide as though he wanted to hug him, Robert called out in a charming, flirtatious voice, "Ah, Tristan! It's been so long!"

Tristan looked at him utterly puzzled. He was sure he'd never seen this man in his life. And yet he looked like him and claimed he'd seen him before. "…um…" was all Tristan could manage.

Robert chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't remember! I saw you when you were one. A gurgling little baby then. After that our parents, William and Rose, bless their souls, banished me and told me never to interfere in your life again. They can be quite…extreme, those two." Robert said this as though it were a trivial matter and then made a motion with his hand that seemed to signify it was of no importance and moved on. "But here I am! This is a lovely school…with lovely girls." A chuckle. "Come give your older brother a hug, Tristan."

His ears were ringing. This couldn't be possible. Looked like him, kinda acted like him, and knew a few things about him and a lot about the manner of his parents. And yet it couldn't be possible that Robert was his brother: his parents had never so much as said his name. If Robert were his brother, surely they would have said something. But no, he just popped into his life out of the blue. Not. Possible. "Sorry, but you can't be my brother," Tristan was decisive, and he turned to leave the gym, leave this madness behind. But Robert's voice stopped him.

"Sure I am. I know it's hard to believe, as Rose and William, bless their souls, probably never so much as mentioned my name." True. "But that's because they hate me. I was a bit of a bad boy." A chuckle. "And they decided to send me off to…er…a different school. And to protect the new baby they gave birth to a year after I was banished, they never let me visit you." Possible. He would certainly believe that of his parents. But still…"And if you don't believe it, which is understandable, just let me drive you home and the reaction on our parents' faces when they see me will be proof."

He would be crazy to accept a ride home from this complete stranger who might just be loony, claiming to be his brother and all. This man could be out to kidnap him and ransom his family. He might have lots of practice and might have died his hair, might be wearing contacts, might be trying to act like him…all those 'might's were absurd, of course. And Tristan was no coward. "Alright, OK, I'll drive home with you. You do know how to get there, right?"

Robert seemed amused. "Of course. It is my house, isn't it?" He held out his right hand to Tristan. "I'm Robert."

"I know," Tristan told him, shaking his hand. "I'm Tristan."

"I know," Robert answered, imitating the way Tristan had said it, and then they both grinned frighteningly identical grins. "Alright then. Let's go shock the pants off Rose and William," Robert suggested merrily as he headed toward the gym doors.

Tristan gulped. 'Shocking the pants off Rose and William' was never a good idea. It usually resulted in groundings or punishments or…but Tristan was already moving, walking toward Robert. He wouldn't back out of this now. And besides, he was curious.


	2. Shocking the Pants off Rose and William

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**A/N: I have been receiving a lot of emails saying that many people have added this story to their story alert/favorite stories. That's great! However, I would much prefer it if those people could review! That way I know what people think of this story.**

Robert's car wasn't ratty. There were no stains or rips on the tan leather seats, no empty bottles littering the floor, no crumbs sprinkled all over the place. It was well taken care of and the light green outside shone. But it wasn't what Tristan was used to; it was a Volvo, and Tristan never drove in anything less expensive than a BMW. But he got in the car anyway after Robert and closed the door behind him with a finality he hardly felt. Robert revved the engine while Tristan buckled-up next to him, and then they were off.

"So you've been going to Chilton for how long, Tristan?" Robert asked him cheerfully between breaks in his whistling, which was getting to be irritating.

"It's a High School," Tristan told him dryly, his hands resting in his lap in a prim, businesslike way. He didn't want to talk.

"So you've been there since…?" Robert pushed the topic on him and Tristan wanted to jump out of the car. "I went there too you know," Robert told him quietly, which completely shrunk the question of how long Tristan had been going to Chilton.

"Really?" Tristan was interested now. "Wow. Was it the same? Was that stuffy, prim Charleston still the headmaster?" He sounded way too eager to be cool. Tristan mentally reminded himself to tone it down and then craned one ear toward Robert, who was chuckling.

"Yeah, Charleston was the headmaster and it was basically the same, except for the students." Robert seemed to be giving the hint that they should drop the topic.

Tristan pretended not to understand the hint. "And did you like it at Chilton?" he asked in what he knew to be a pushy manner.

"Well…I liked it more than the school I was banished to after Chilton," Robert told him solemnly, turning the wheel to the left a little to avoid a collision.

"What school were you sent to after Chilton, then?" Tristan asked him as casually as he could, though he really wanted to know.

"Um…it was this stuffy Boarding School type of thing," was all Robert would tell him, though Tristan tried to push the topic further. The rest of the journey went on in silence until they were at the door of Tristan's mansion. Robert really did know the way.

"So, we're here," Tristan told him with little to no enthusiasm, swinging his loaded backpack onto his back and heading toward the doors of his house while Robert slammed the doors of the car and closed the trunk. "Coming?" Tristan asked him. Robert nodded, though he was still gazing transfixed at the building. Finally he walked toward Tristan and reached over to ring the bell.

(…)

"So who was that guy, Rory?" Paris asked her as they stepped out of the school, their heavy backpacks weighing them down significantly. Rory shrugged, which was hard due to the load on her strained back.

"Was he really Tristan's brother?" Louise asked with curiosity as she applied some makeup to her lips without looking at Rory. Rory didn't care to answer.

"I think I saw him driving off with Tristan in his car," Madeline said seriously, watching Louise carefully as though trying to learn the proper way to apply lipstick. She didn't seem to care too much about Tristan and the mysterious new man.

"Drive off in his car?" Rory pronounced her first words after leaving the school. "Oh no. Do you think he might have been…taken against his will?" She was worried, even though this was Tristan they were talking about.

Paris laughed with no humor. "Hello, Rory? We're talking about _Tristan _here. He wouldn't let anyone take him away against his will. And they were in a crowded parking lot! Not possible, Miss Dreamer." Paris paused, grinning at Rory, who walked looking at the curb, blushing slightly. "Wait…was that worry I heard in your tone?" Paris teased.

Rory blushed a little more as Louise and Madeline stopped and turned toward her. "Rory? Worried about Tristan?" Louise asked with a big grin on her face, her lipstick only half-applied. "No, not possible! I thought it was just us normal girls who swooned over Tristan!"

"I am _not _swooning over Tristan!" Rory told them sharply, her tone making it clear they should be quiet, quick. But Paris wouldn't give up so easily.

"I've seen the way Tristan looks at you…and the way you look at him…you should become a couple, Rory! It would be such a perfect couple, too! You, the naïve schoolgirl who does nothing but study and does her best at school. Tristan, the hot guy who charms all the girls and can be found with one pressed up against the lockers, eating her face, who nearly never studies and gets in trouble regularly. You would make such a perfect match!"

Rory was angry. "Look, Paris, I have a boyfriend and he's 1,000 times better than Tristan could ever be. So just because _you've _been swooning over him since first grade doesn't mean I do it too!" As soon as she said it Rory wanted to clamp a hand on her mouth. Or rewind her life just a little bit. But the words had come out and were hanging painfully in the air between her and Paris.

Paris was frighteningly calm as she stopped and addressed Rory. "I should have known; you will never be the right girl for Tristan, prissy, perfect, Mary, schoolgirl as you are. He would never even let his gaze linger on you for two seconds more than it lingers on a dying flower! I was so wrong to suggest that you could ever be a couple. My mistake."

Rory was relieved that Paris hadn't exploded. But she was clearly mad at her and was letting it leak out in a very non-Paris way, by remaining frosty and insulting her. But Rory wasn't insulted; she didn't care if Tristan never looked at her. She didn't like him anyway, annoying as he was. Paris could have him if she wanted him.

(…)

The large doors of the mansion were opened by Mary-Anne, one of their countless maids. Tristan greeted her pleasantly and introduced Robert as a friend. But Mary-Anne was old and clearly knew who Robert was. She gasped, her brown eyes round and huge, as she took in Robert's appearance. "Master…Master Robert!" she exclaimed, her mouth an 'o'. Robert smiled dashingly at her and kissed her hand, flirting without shame.

"The one and only. But if you would step aside, Mary-Anne, I really do need to go see my parents," he told her in his most charming voice while Tristan watched them curiously. Wait…this scene, this display meant that…meant that it was all true. All of it. Robert was indeed Robert DuGrey…his older brother.

"I'm sorry, Master Robert, but I cannot let you in. You know I have strict orders not to let you into this house, received from William himself. You will have to leave." Mary-Anne did look sorry. But Robert didn't seem put-off in the least.

"Fine, fine, Mary-Anne. I understand. Tristan, would you go to our parents and tell them there's someone by the door who wants to see them? Thanks…little brother." Tristan gazed at Robert in shock. Little brother…

When he recovered his senses he said to his older brother, "I don't think it would be such a good idea to try and shock them, you know. I believe you now anyway, you really are my brother. Besides, they would just get mad and…" Robert made a face at him that even Tristan couldn't refuse. Scowling at his older brother, he said, "Oh, alright, alright!" and followed Mary-Anne inside to see his parents.

They were sitting at the dining room table sipping at their coffees like the dignified snobs they were. "Uh, Rose…William…someone wants to see you. He's by the door," Tristan announced, hesitating in the doorway. Rose immediately got up from her seat at the table and patted her son's cheek as she passed, and William followed her.

When they got to the doorway and saw Robert, Rose and William were shocked into silence. Robert broke it, grinning at them like a fool. "Hey, why not a fond hello for your _son_!" he told them, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Hello Mom, hello Dad!" he greeted them in mock cheerful tones. Tristan winced as Rose burst into tears and William glared at his oldest son. Robert really had succeeded in shocking their pants off for sure. That was never a good thing.


	3. Welcome to the DuGrey Household

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and I really do mean it! Reviews are very important to me, and I would be extremely grateful if everyone who reads this could review the story! It tells me whether people like it or not, and reviews are very helpful. So please, please, please review!**

"Robert," William said in a frosty voice as he wrapped one arm around his glamorous, weeping wife. "I thought we told you never to show your face here again," he cautioned, his voice and face both stony. Robert's response was a grin. "Leave. And don't come back. By the way, didn't we tell you to change your last name to something else?"

"I did, _Dad_," Robert told Mr. DuGrey cheerfully. "I'm now Robert DuGrey Quillan. I wouldn't want people to think I was your son, after all. Don't think you're alone in the hating," he informed William, his voice suddenly chilly. "Now let me pass."

"No," William told his oldest son in a steady and yet commanding voice. "Go away, Robert. We don't want you here. Leave. Now." He hugged his wife closer to him and didn't seem to mind the black splotches left on his suit from her running mascara. But Robert stayed firm.

"This is no longer my house. This is no longer my family. And I have a little two year old son of my own, as well as a wife named Helga. Together we'll raise him, better than you two raised me for sure," Robert told his father in a very steady voice. Tristan watched on in amazement as William relaxed; evidently he'd been thinking Robert wanted to join their family again. Not that they were much of a family anyway. "But there is one thing I want, and that's to get to know my little brother," Robert continued in an unwavering voice. Tristan was impressed.

"Absolutely not. We told you to stay out of his life," William snarled, clutching at his wife like a lifeline. But Rose suddenly lifted her splotchy face to look into her oldest son's, her eyes intense.

"No, let him. I think he's changed, William, and he could teach Tristan how _not to_ behave. Besides," she said in a voice that was eerily quiet, "he is our son." And then Rose burst into tears again. But she'd achieved the needed affect and William silently moved aside.

Robert stepped into the first room of the house with a look of triumph in his eyes, though he kept his mouth a steady, unwavering line. William beckoned to him and together Rose, Tristan, Robert and William walked wordlessly over to one of their three living rooms, each of them seating themselves on different couches. Robert on the black one, Tristan on the blue one, William on the gray one and Rose on the red one. They regarded each other in silence, none of them knowing what to say.

"Tristan, as you have already realized, I'm your older brother," Robert began at last, his eyes resting on Tristan's face and his gaze as unwavering as his voice. Rose and William both flinched. "Our parents never told you about me because I was a misbehaving little boy when I was your age and they sent me away, only to have another baby, start over again. They thought that if you never met me you wouldn't turn out like me. Perhaps that's true." Rose was sniffling but Robert went on. "However, as soon as I learned about your existence, when I was twenty-six, I've wanted to meet you, to talk to you. You are my younger brother after all. And, as I now know, quite like me." Robert smiled but William and Rose looked unsteady. "Then I met Helga, we married, had a child…Though I never forgot my desire to see you, I knew our parents would never let me. But then I decided I had to try, no matter what. And so here I am."

Rose let out a half-sob-half-gasp and threw herself onto Robert, who caught his mother easily. They embraced, Rose crying openly once more. Evidently she'd missed her son. And it was as though the tension in the air had evaporated. William slowly walked over to the black couch and said, in a stiff manner, "I'm sorry, son." Robert looked at him and Rose in surprise.

Then his face softened considerably. "It's alright. I know it was for the good, now. I'm a changed man, and I'm glad you did what you did. Really…Dad." This time when he said it, there was no scorn in his voice.

(…)

"Miss Gilmore!" an adult woman's voice cried out. Rory could hear the pitter-patter of high-heels clunking on the cement as an older woman ran toward her waving some papers in the air. "Miss Gilmore! Lorelai!" she yelled. Rory turned and acknowledged Mrs. Dodge running toward her with someone's homework in her hands.

"Yes, Mrs. Dodge?" she asked the secretary to the Principal politely, walking over to the older woman and smiling at her warmly. Mrs. Dodge was evidently relieved as she tried to hand Rory the papers in her hands. But Rory raised one eyebrow as if to ask, 'what do you want?'

"DuGrey forgot his homework," Mrs. Dodge explained bluntly. Rory nodded and accepted the papers with an of-course sort of nod. The secretary nodded to her in turn and thanked her. "I knew you would bring it to him. Besides, you're one of the last students left here. Thank you, Miss Gilmore." Mrs. Dodge turned on her high-heels and left the way she'd come, leaving Rory with Tristan's homework assignment in her hands.

She really didn't want to deliver this to him, especially not now, after they'd been talking, arguing, about him with Paris. She barely knew the way to his house, and it was a bit out-of-the-way. But she would do it.

Rory got into her mother's car, the homework resting on the seat beside her, on top of her bright-orange backpack, loaded to splitting at the seam. She revved the engine and followed the same path as Tristan and Robert had earlier to deliver the homework to Tristan. Although she really didn't want to, because she didn't like him. She kept telling herself that as though saying the words over and over would make them true.

(…)

Rose, after drying her leaking eyes, had poured them all some tea and coffee and now they sat around the glass table, all on the same couch, the biggest, sipping at their assorted drinks. Tristan had chosen coffee, just because his father didn't like it when he drank coffee. He himself didn't even particularly fancy the dark, swirling black drink. Rose had mint tea and William had coffee. Robert had tea, as though to prove he was a changed man now.

"So, what's this all about? Where were you 'banished' to?" Tristan asked after a big sip of the coffee. It needed more milk. He bent over to get the milk pitcher and so didn't see the warning look William shot Robert. Just then, before his older brother could answer, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," both Robert and Tristan said at the same time. "We'll both get it," Tristan clarified, grinning, as both the boys rose from their seats and went to answer the door.

Robert opened the large doors while Tristan chirped, "Welcome to the DuGrey household, how may I help you?" expecting one of his father's old business partners. Instead, he found himself facing a grinning Rory holding his homework in her hands.

"'Welcome to the DuGrey household'," she imitated. "Wow, how formal. 'How may I help you?' That's not like you at all, Tristan." She seemed delighted at the chance to poke and pester him in return for all the poking and pestering he did to her. Tristan reddened slightly and stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked over at Robert briefly and saw with surprise that he was gazing at Rory in shock. "Oh, is that Robert DuGrey?" Rory asked Tristan curiously when she saw his brother. "Hi, I'm Rory. Lorelai, actually, but I prefer Rory." Robert looked haunted.

"Lorelai?" he whispered, his face pale and his voice shaky as he watched Rory hand Tristan his homework. Rory looked uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Uh, yeah. My mom named me after herself while she was lying in the hospital bed because she decided that since men named their kids after themselves all the time, it was only fair women should do it sometimes too." She was babbling now, but Robert burst into laughter.

"Oh, she would do that," he commented mysteriously, waving to Rory as she hopped into her car and started to drive away. "Lorelai," he repeated again in a whisper. Tristan was looking at him strangely as well. "So that's her daughter…"

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked, confused. Had Robert known Rory's mom?

"We went to Chilton together," he explained. "And…I liked her. A lot. But she liked a certain Christopher Hayden, and when he got her pregnant I gave up hope of ever…you know. And I also never thought I'd see her again. I haven't. But I've seen her daughter! Christopher's daughter as well, though…Anyway, Helga also went to Chilton, and after Lorelai left school I fell in love with her. Now, let's go back to the living room; Rose and William will be waiting for us," he finished, clapping his hands. Tristan gazed at him in wonder for a moment longer before following his brother inside.

Did everyone in the world who mattered in his life go to Chilton at some point?


	4. Pity is Not What I Want From You

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter**

**Thanks to: my wonderful beta, Lady Ilyre. There would be many mistakes in this chapter without her.**

The rest of the evening passed serenely, Rose designing a new dress up in her study, William working on some paperwork that had to do with business at his desk, and the two brothers facing each other across the little glass table, trying to find something to say.

"So, Tristan, how's life at Chilton?" Robert asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Er…it's great. I mean, it's not really great, but it's alright; I mean, it's school, right, and how can school be great?" Tristan let out a nervous little laugh and ran his hand through his hair.

Robert nodded. "I see. And…do you fancy any particular girl there?"

Oh god. What was he supposed to answer to that? "Well, I did have some girlfriends…"

Robert raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his mint tea, which was, by now, a little cold. "Yes, well, that's good…"

Their pathetic attempts at conversation ended, Robert and Tristan looked around the living room for a while as though it were a great source of interest.

"Robert…" Tristan began, a question moistening his lips. "How much did you…like Lorelai?"

Robert looked at him, clearly startled. Slowly he eased back in his chair and brought the mug to his lips, though he didn't take another sip. "Well…at first I thought I was in love with her. There were lots of other girls in the school, but for me there was only her. I was blinded, I suppose, and that's why I didn't see Helga. But when we both left school abruptly, it was Helga who saw me off, who told me she would miss me, who shed a tear for me…I guess I was seeing her for the first time and realized that she was a decent girl where Lorelai was not, and would give me a calm, happy life, which was all I wanted when I came back from…school. It was then that I realized that I didn't love Lorelai…any more; she probably didn't even know my name anyway. And so when I came back from Mili-…from the school I was sent to, I knew it was Helga who I should marry. Is that explanation enough?"

Tristan nodded, though a far-off look was present in his blue eyes. "Yeah. And do you regret anything?"

Robert had a look of thoughtfulness in his eyes as he contemplated the question from all angles. Finally he replied, "No, I don't think so. Lorelai was such a wild girl, I think that if we had married she would have left me the next year, month, week... And with Helga I have a peaceful, calm, serene life…I like it. It's enough. And don't even ask me if I love my son; I love him more than my parents ever loved me. I make it a point to love little Will."

"Will? You named him after William? Our father?" Tristan asked incredulously. He'd thought that Robert and William hated each other.

"Er…well…" Robert looked a little uncomfortable. "It's all because of my father I am who I am now, you know, and if I hadn't been sent off then I would never have realized that Lorelai and I…so yes, I guess I did name my son after William. Though I also simply like the name."

Tristan nodded and they both went back to their drinks. After a while the doorbell buzzed and Tristan got up to open the door. When he opened it he took care to say, "Hello?" instead of his previous saying, the one which had caused him such intense mortification.

"Hello. Is this the DuGrey household? I have here some Chinese food ordered by one Robert DuGrey…" the speaker was a greasy-haired man holding out a steaming box. His white, baggy T-Shirt read, "The Red Dragon: Home of the Finest Chinese Cuisine".

"Hold on a second," Tristan directed the delivery boy, his head ducking back into the house. "Robert? Did you order Chinese food?" he called.

"Oh, yeah, I did." Robert appeared beside him and took the box from the delivery boy gratefully. "Thank you," he said, shutting the door.

"Wait, what about payment…?" the voice of the whiney delivery boy called out as the door was about to close.

"Prepaid!" Robert called, letting the door shut. Tristan and his brother watched the boy drive off on a cheap red bicycle, looking grumpy, and in that instant what had been said over and over suddenly hit them both with its full force: they were brothers. They shared a bond. They should be able to talk for hours on end. But somehow things just didn't work out that way.

(…)

The alarm clock rang with a ferocity that awoke him, heavy sleeper as he was, and Tristan was dressed and done brushing his hair and teeth in the course of eight minutes. He was careful not to disturb Robert, who was lodged in one of the numerous bedrooms, on his way down the stairs. He grabbed an apple and started up his car, on his way to school.

Once he got to the school, he kept his head down and decided to avoid everyone's curious glances. But one person's attention was hard to keep away from.

"Tristan? Is that man really your brother?" Paris Gellar asked him forcefully, trotting up to the boy she thought was Tristan. He let out a reluctant sigh, having no wish to talk to anyone right now, let alone Paris. Quickly Tristan made up a lame excuse.

"Yes, Paris, he is. Oh, is that Mr. Medina calling me? So sorry, have to go." Tristan dashed off before the amiable Paris Gellar could pursue him and question him farther. On the way to his English class he ran into someone else preferably avoided.

"Hey Trisha, just thought I might say hi," Bowman greeted him with a sneer, his plump face twisting to accommodate the greasy smile. "So, are you in on tomorrow? Wanna come with me and Duncan to that Rock Concert or are you too…chicken?"

"What Rock Concert? Oh, that one! Well, sorry Bowman but my brother Rob, a real rocker, jut bought tickets to this superb Rock Concert for tomorrow evening, and seeing two in one day would be way un-cool. So sorry, but no." Tristan hurried to his English class once more before the shocked Bowman could answer.

"DuGrey? May I ask why you're late?" Mr. Medina's scorning voice rang out harshly as Tristan took his seat. "Class starts at 8:05, and not whenever you choose to appear."

"Yeah well, it kind of starts whenever _you _get here, Medina, so pressure's on." Tristan smirked, his anger and frustration drained into that one disrespectful comment. Ah, it felt good to annoy the authorities sometimes.

"Out. I think Mr. Charleston will be interested to hear that, DuGrey," Mr. Medina told him frostily as Tristan voluntarily rose from his chair, leaving his heavy backpack behind. He could hear Rory's sharp intake of breath and wished he hadn't. He didn't want her pity. But he did want something from her; he wanted the same kind of feelings he harbored for her to be returned on her part. Not, he thought gloomily as he sat in Charleston's office, that would never happen. But he could hope.


	5. I kissed Rory Gilmore

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

"…So class, is that explanation enough?" the History teacher's voice rang out across the classroom, disrupting Tristan's thoughts. He had been gazing absentmindedly at Rory for a while now and hadn't heard a word uttered by the teacher, who'd been rambling on for half an hour. His thoughts were directed towards Robert, Rory, Lorelai, his parents…

"Yes," the unified voice of the students replied monotonously, their heads drooping and their pencils doodling on their notes. The teacher nodded his assent, and then seemed to notice that Tristan, who was sitting up straighter and gazing at him determinedly, hadn't said anything and had been, for the past half-hour, daydreaming.

"DuGrey?" the History teacher called out, his eyes fixed on Tristan's face. A groan escaped the boy's lips; he didn't want to be sent to the Principal's office just now. "Did you hear what I said?"

The teacher was challenging him. Normally he would have found this great sport, but now Tristan was weary and wanted to go home, have some coffee…"Uh, yeah, you said: 'so class, is that explanation enough?'."

"And before that?" the teacher queried, clearly amused by this confrontation. "What was I explaining, Tristan?" He would wait and wait and wait for Tristan to answer, and then, when he couldn't, the Bronze Moment would arise and he would say, "Well?" and Tristan would admit he didn't know. Then, the Silver Moment, when he would change gears and sound frosty and say, "Mr. Charleston will know. Why don't you go ask him?" And finally, the Golden Moment, while he would watch DuGrey slink out of the room, shoulders hunched, defeated. Ah, his job was a good one.

"You were explaining about the Ancient Mayas and how we would have to do a History Project on them due in a week," Paris Gellar's voice replied promptly. For the first time that year the History teacher was severely irritated with his best student, Paris. Now he couldn't prove that Tristan didn't know, and now there would be no Bronze, Silver, or Golden moment. He scowled.

"Yes, I was. But when did your name change from Paris to Tristan, may I ask, Miss Gellar?" he demanded, watching with little satisfaction as Paris's face turned red and she bowed her head in the direction of her notes, embarrassed but pleased that she had done something to help Tristan. "Now, before that scandalous interruption, I was about to announce the partners. Yes, this is a Partner Project," he confirmed amidst the groans of his weary students. Partner Projects weren't popular. "Now…Madeline and Richard, Louise and Emma…"

Tristan waited for his name to be called out paired with Paris. He was always paired with her; the smartest, most efficient student with the smart and yet care-free one. All the teachers seemed to think that she could straighten him out somehow. He was very surprised to hear, "…Tristan and Rory…" called out. At first Tristan didn't know what else he felt apart from surprise. Was he happy? Mortified? Ah, yes, there it was: he was happy; he had hope, because maybe now he could redeem himself in her eyes.

Tristan glanced self-consciously over at Rory, who was bent over her notes, her lustrous brown hair a curtain shielding her emotions. But at the moment that he looked at her she looked up, and he saw the flush of red in her cheeks, saw that her blue eyes were slightly glazed and stormy. She was angry at having him for a partner. She probably thought he would ruin the whole project and she would get an F because of him. But he was determined to make this succeed.

(…)

"Tristan." Rory stated it as a fact while she approached his locker, so inconveniently close to her own. He looked up at her and smiled that smile that she'd always seen as his 'cocky smirk'. Now, somehow, it was different. It was a genuine smile now, an offering of peace…

"Yes, Mary?"

Her anger flared. "We have to do a project together, Tristan. This is the time to learn my name!" she snapped, resisting the urge to march away in a dignified manner. Tristan smirked again, and for the first time Rory considered what could be hidden behind that smirk. Was he using it as a mask? Was he, for example, really in love with Louise and he just used the smirk and that haughty manner to disguise it? Or did he really like Mr. Medina and pretended to be arrogant and disobedient just to hide it? Was there more to Tristan than she'd thought at first?

"You'll always be Mary to me," Tristan told her in what she knew he thought was a gentle, consoling, _seducing _manner. She closed her eyes briefly to illustrate the fact that she was grappling with impatience and she was losing.

Tristan had moved closer. His breath was on her face, his arm was inching over to drape itself around her shoulders…Rory started and stared at him, aghast. "I only came here to say that studying at my house tomorrow would be convenient. As partners, Tristan, it would be helpful if we didn't argue with each other. That way we might have a chance at a D-." She was carefully leaving something unsaid. _And it would also be a bonus if you would stop trying to seduce me._

"Your house. Tomorrow, AKA Saturday. Got it," Tristan parroted. As Rory nodded and moved to turn her back on him and leave, he managed to grab her wrist, and, spinning her around, took hold of her other wrist. Rory was shocked and surprised and didn't know what he was doing yet, so this was his chance. Hastily, Tristan pulled her to himself and kissed her on the lips, letting his mouth linger on hers for as long as he dared. Then, gently, while he was kissing her, he released her wrists, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to.

For a while longer, perhaps because her mind wasn't functioning and she hadn't realized that her wrists were free, Rory stayed where she was, her eyes open and bewildered while her mouth was pressed against his. Tristan dared to wonder for a moment if she wanted this. But then, quickly, she pulled away, rubbing her wrists and staring at him with surprise and a hint of anger.

"I…I didn't know I could pull free," she stammered as a way of explaining why she hadn't run away as soon as he let go of her wrists. Tristan smiled gently at her, and for some reason, perhaps because she wanted to believe it, Rory thought of it as an arrogant smirk.

"If you liked it, we can do it again sometime," Tristan told her in a low voice, inching just a little bit closer. Panicking, Rory bolted down the corridor, away from him. But if the scene was replayed a thousand times, Tristan wouldn't have done it any other way.

"Tristan?" a hurt, puzzled voice asked hesitantly. Paris stepped out from behind the open locker door that had concealed her from their view and stared at him out of very confused, pained eyes. "Did you just kiss…kiss Rory Gilmore?" she asked in a hushed whisper, as though she couldn't believe it.

His mind on Rory and nothing else, Tristan nodded. "She's so beautiful, don't you think?" he murmured, forgetting that Paris was there, forgetting everything but the sight of Rory and the feel of Rory and the smell of Rory and the taste of Rory… "Yes…I kissed Rory Gilmore."

Tristan was too deep in his reverie, too absorbed in replaying the scene again and again in his mind, to notice that the smartest girl in class had slammed her locker door, grabbed her backpack, and bolted down the corridor with tears streaming down her face.


	6. The Effects of a Kiss

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**A/N: In this chapter I'm planning on using four different characters' POVs (point of views). It will be different from the other chapters because Tristan won't be the sole focus of everyone's attentions. Again, please review, even if you hated it! Reviews make me so happy. They make me feel as though someone cares about the time I spend writing these stories.**

Rory

I got to my house and dropped my backpack on the floor as soon as I entered, pulled off my stupid Chilton shoes and ran upstairs to change out of the horrible school outfit. I was lying in bed wearing my mom's old gym pants and my crimson Harvard T-shirt, the one I had picked up at one of the events. I'd picked the clothes out at random, so it was a total coincidence that I was wearing that shirt. My head pressed firmly into the bed, my thoughts were directed toward the day's events.

I was paired with Tristan DuGrey for a project on the ancient Mayans. I could see it now: we would be sitting at my house, on my couch, and I would be jotting down facts furiously in a note-book while reading a book about the Mayans. Next to me, Tristan would have an open book and note-book in his lap but would be gazing at me intently. Then he wouldn't stop making stupid comments, and then he would try to get me to kiss him again or something.

I would get an F on that project, I knew it. And even worse than getting an F would be that Paris would get an A+ for sure and then rub it in my face. And then I'd never go to Harvard and I'd never be a journalist and everyone in the world would hate me, most of all my grandparents who expected me to be something big so much, and my mom would make me into a maid at the inn and I would be miserable…

No. I was determined to ace that project, and I would, Tristan or no Tristan. I would get an A.

That taken care of, my thoughts turned to Tristan again. Why did he do all that stuff anyway? _To annoy me, _was the immediate rebuke. But…why would he go to such pains to annoy me? Could he really think that bothering me, trying to seduce me, and making my life hell was a way to make me like him? Well, I didn't like him. Period. He was an arrogant jerk, and he only paid so much attention to me because he'd made a bet he could make Mary go out with him, or something.

And the kiss? Was I going to dismiss that as a simple bet as well? But, unless I was totally and completely deluding myself, he'd had something there in his eyes when I pulled away, and it wasn't triumph, like I would expect if he'd just won a bet. And when he was kissing me, he did it almost gently, as though he were restraining himself because he knew that I wouldn't like it if he didn't. And, finally, if it was a bet, then why would he have let go of my wrists, permitted me to pull away and run if I wanted to?

Could it be because he liked me?

My thoughts were in turmoil when my mom came home and laughed her head off at my outfit. "Even more ridiculous than that Donna Reed thing!" she'd exclaimed, cackling madly.

(…)

Paris

How could he have done that? Didn't he know how much I liked him? I'd known him much longer than she knew him, and yet he'd never kissed me, never spared me a glance unless he had to. All the other girlfriends he'd had could be dismissed as there to help him pass the time, or bring him out of his loneliness. The kisses he shared with them were nothing serious, and so I didn't have to worry about that. But the way he'd kissed her was so different, so loving, so gentle, so caring, so full of emotion…

He'd wanted to kiss her since the first day she stepped into his classroom, since the first time he'd called her Mary. I'd wanted to kiss him forever. He was the only boy I would ever like. And yet he didn't like me, he hardly knew my name, he thought I was scum, or just another one of those nerdy girls who did well in class and had no life, no boyfriends.

I cared about him. I cared that he didn't like his parents, that he had trouble at home. And I cared and understood, perhaps more than anyone, what he felt inside. Because, a lot of the time, I felt it too. She didn't care. In fact, she hated him, she thought he was annoying, and she had a boyfriend. Yet he loved her and he'd kissed her, not me. 'His Mary' couldn't see past his cocky manner, his arrogant attitude, and his smirks. All she could see was a handsome boy with countless girlfriends out to annoy her. She didn't see what I saw: the loneliness inside him, the fight between being good or being bad, how much he wanted to please his parents and how much he wanted to annoy them.

And most of all she couldn't see how much he loved her.

I wished I couldn't see that sometimes, because it caused me so much pain.

Sometimes I wished that I could break through that mask, the hard outer layer that people thought was me, and show everyone who I really was.

A lot of the time I wished Tristan could do that.

Even if he married Rory Gilmore, had ten kids with her, loved her to the point of bursting and never spared me a thought, I, Paris Gellar, would always, always, always care about Tristan.

(…)

Louise

This was _so _not fair. I had been paired with Emma, and Madeline got Richard, perhaps the hottest guy in class after Tristan. God, how much I wanted to study with Tristan. We would sit in his house on his couch, and I would flirt and flirt and flirt. Then Tristan would kiss me and I would be happy for the rest of my life. But no, that Gilmore girl got him, and I could hardly see him kissing her.

The teacher had probably paired me with Emma because she was a girl and he knew that I would flirt to death with a partner who was a boy. I was in a mood to flirt after being paired with that female-dog, so I went out into the hallway to find Tristan and give it a try.

I walked out into the hallway and what do I see? That female-dog Gilmore pushing Tristan into his locker and kissing him like her heart was gonna burst. Wow. This sure was some juicy gossip material.

I found Madeline and told her all about it, how Gilmore had Tristan pressed up against his locker and was making-out with him like there was no tomorrow. Of course, Madeline didn't get the point, so I had to explain to her that now she was supposed to go around the school telling everybody she saw.

We told Emma, Amelia, Hannah, Connor, Richard, Ashley, Chad, and countless others. Tomorrow the news would be all over the school; Gilmore was no longer a Mary.

(…)

Tristan

When I got home I really wanted to make some coffee and drop onto the bed, then lose myself in dreams and memories of kissing Rory, but was confronted at the front door by Robert. "Hey, I was just about to go out. Do you want to come with me? I think we should go Grocery Shopping; there are no fruits left," he explained.

So I followed Robert out of the house and we got into his car. I sat down next to him and stared out the window as Hartford shot by, thinking about Rory and the kiss. Robert seemed to know something was up. "What are you thinking, Tristan?" he asked me gently. I turned to him and felt that I should tell him.

"Well I kissed this girl at school today, and she's the one I really like," I explained, my thoughts and feelings probably evident in my eyes. Robert grinned.

"Ah. So you kissed Lorelai's daughter, did you?" I was very surprised that he knew who I liked.

"Um, yeah. How did you know that I liked her?" I asked him suspiciously.

"Tristan, it's completely evident in the way you looked at her and talked to her and acted around her that day she gave you your homework," Robert explained softly. We proceeded to talk about Rory, school, Lorelai, and everything until we pulled up in front of the Supermarket. As we got out of the car and closed the doors, I felt as though I was closer to Robert, and it felt good.


	7. Now is the Time to Panic

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**Note: Originally, when planning this fic., (yes, it is planned out and the ending is fixed, though, of course, it could change) I intended that it would be from Tristan's POV and about his growing relationship with his brother. But I added some twists. This chapter, for example, is all from Rory's POV. The outcome should be about the same, though…We'll see!**

Rory walked into the school feeling dejected. The toaster had popped a fuse or something that morning, there were no more pop-tarts left anyway, her mom made pancakes but there was no maple-syrup or any other kind of liquid sugar so they threw them away, and then Lorelai found some pop-tarts under the couch and heated them up in the oven but by the time they were ready Rory had been afraid of being late and left home without breakfast, which was a disaster. And now she was hungry, of course. A bad start to what promised to be a bad day. And then there was that small issue about Tristan and the kiss…

Oh no. She had to see Tristan, confront him, speak to him, maybe. And then there was that project! How would they manage that without at least one of them being completely mortified? It wasn't possible. She would just have to ask the teacher for another partner. And that was the simple solution.

_Now stop fretting over it, Rory! _She scolded herself as she walked to her classroom, head down and a frown plastered on her face. That was the solution. There was a solution. Now she could stop feeling so uptight about it, so nervous, so fidgety, and so worried about seeing Tristan.

"Hey Mary," a boy's voice called to her. Rory's head whipped up and she felt her hair slap someone behind her. Slowly, she turned around, expecting and dreading to see Tristan. _No, no, please don't let it be Tristan! I don't want to see him. I won't be ready to see him for the next ten years!_

"Ouch! What the _hell _did you do that for, Gilmore!" the boy she'd hit with her hair cursed. Rory let out a breath of relief when she saw it was Tucker, and not Tristan. And then she quickly turned red when she remembered that she'd hit him in the face with her hair and he had his left eye closed tightly, his hand covering it up.

"Sorry, Tucker," she apologized honestly. "Do you…need help? Should I ask the nurse if she has anything for your eye? Really, I'm sorry. But if you just open your eye and blink a few times it should…"

Tucker was grinning, not wincing. Why was he grinning? This was not good. Rory's level of panic escalated as she gulped, let her sentence trail off, and waited for the explanation as to why Tucker was grinning like that. It couldn't be good. "You responded," he said, chuckling, a gleam in his right eye. "You responded when I called you Mary. Did you think I was Tristan or something? Were you getting ready to smooch him again?"

Rory stood there, facing a cackling Tucker surrounded by a group of other laughing students, her eyes wide open and her heart thumping wildly. _He knew._ Tucker Harrison, and all those other kids, knew that Tristan had kissed her. Did Tristan tell them? Was it a bet after all? Did he tell everyone in the school that he'd gotten Rory, gotten Mary, to kiss him? But she hadn't kissed him, _he_'d kissed _her_. It was entirely different. And here Tucker seemed to think that she had been the one doing the kissing. No, she'd been the one doing the panicking.

"Tristan is an arrogant _jerk_. And you most of all, as his friend, should know that I hate him. Now why would I kiss someone I hated? Tristan is the last person I would ever kiss. And you, Tucker Harrison, should know that," she snapped at Tucker. Turning her back, Rory hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders and walked away from the hooting Tucker.

Once Rory dropped into her seat, she was affronted by Paris, her hair hanging down like a curtain, her face forcing itself in front of Rory's. "So. You kissed Tristan DuGrey. Congratulations; now every single girl in the school has been kissed by Tristan except for me. Do you feel proud? Exhilarated? Triumphant? Happy? Hmm? Are you happy, Gilmore, that you have now officially joined the long line of girls who have been kissed by Tristan DuGrey? Are you happy, Gilmore, that you are in that line and I am not? Are you?" Paris was practically screaming at this point while Rory shrank farther and farther into her seat.

What was wrong with Paris? Why was she affronting her like this when she, most of all, knew how much Rory hated Tristan, knew that if it was true that they had kissed, it would have been because Tristan forced it on her? Why was Paris behaving so unnaturally?

But of course. The natural explanation was the valid one. Paris was in love. She was in love with Tristan.

"I'm surprised in you, Paris," Rory told her quietly, sitting up straighter and therefore forcing Paris to move back a bit. "I thought that you would shoot higher than Tristan."

For a moment Rory and Paris stared at each other, both coolly indifferent. Then Paris let out a forced laugh. "Me? Shoot higher than Tristan? And this coming from the mouth of the one who just recently made out with him so passionately in front of the lockers?"

Paris said it to uphold her dignity, but she knew, and she knew Rory knew. They both knew that Paris was the one mooning over Tristan, and they both knew why she was being so illogical.

Paris stared at her for a few more moments and then, flushing red, turned away and marched to her seat right before the History teacher walked into the room. Immediately, Rory's hand shot up straight in the air.

The teacher wasn't even at the front of the room yet but he smiled at one of his best, most promising pupils and asked, "Yes, Miss Gilmore? Do you have a question?"

She decided to get straight to the point. "I can't, I won't, work with Tristan DuGrey," she told the History teacher straight out, making eye contact with him to show how serious she was. The only good thing about this day, she noted to herself quickly in the pause that followed, was that Tristan seemed to be absent.

Immediately the teacher's smile slipped and she was no longer regarded as one of his favorite students. "Oh, but you can and you will, Miss Gilmore," he told her in icy tones. Promptly, the teacher walked to the front of the room and began the lesson. It was settled and there was nothing she could do about it; Rory Gilmore would have to work with Tristan DuGrey. Now was the time to panic.


	8. Yes, That's Good

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**Note: I don't know how many times I'll have to say this, but here it is again: Please review! Your reviews, though you may not believe it, determine what I think of my story: If there are many reviews, I can safely think that people like it. So, the question is…: Do you like it? And the way to answer is to review!**

He was lying in his bed, rolled up tightly in a protective ball, reflecting. Had he done the right thing in kissing her? Or had he made a dreadful mistake? His assurance of the day before had vanished, and his dreams had been haunted by Rory's 'I hate you!'s. He didn't want to get up. He didn't feel like going to school. What if Rory really did hate him?

"Tristan?" a gentle voice called. He didn't move, even though he knew it to be Robert's. "Look, I know you're in here, little brother. And I didn't come in to torture you, or to make you go to school or anything. I just thought that maybe having a second person to discuss your thoughts with and give you an opinion on them might be helpful. Will you accept me as that person?"

Tristan slowly slid out of his rolled-up position and sat up straight, facing Robert, who was standing in the doorway. "Yes," he told his brother softly, watching as Robert walked over to the bed and sat down next to him.

"So, Tristan, are you worried about Rory? Are you thinking about the kiss you shared? Regretting it perhaps?" Robert asked him, placing a hand on his little brother's knee, displaying an act of affection that had never been introduced by Tristan's father, or anyone else. Startled, the younger boy jerked his leg away and then put it back, feeling ashamed. But Robert didn't seem as though he'd been slighted; he looked understanding. "Ah. So our dearest Papa never did that to you either," he commented dryly.

Changing the subject after nodding, Tristan put in, "Yes, I am worried about Rory, and the kiss, as well as its impact." He paused here, looked Robert in the eyes, and knew he could trust him utterly. "When I did it, I thought it was perfect, and I thought it was the right thing. And I didn't force her; I let go of her wrists, letting her go if she wanted to. But now I think that maybe I was forcing her, and maybe she'll feel extremely awkward around me now. Plus…she has a boyfriend named Dean, who works as a Bag Boy in Stars Hollow. And I'm afraid that maybe my kissing her – a second time, too – will ruin her relationship and she'll hate me."

Robert seemed to be thinking everything over for a while during a companionable pause and then observed, "Well…I think that maybe the best thing to do would be to…devote your full attention to the project you've been assigned to work on with Rory."

Tristan looked at him expectantly, searching for an explanation in his brother's face. "See, Rory is probably feeling awkward about the kiss and perhaps she wants to avoid you because of it." Tristan's face fell considerably, as did his mood. "_But _if you approach her and ask, or say, something about the project, then she might feel a bit more at ease. And if, tomorrow, when you go to work at her house, you work hard, shoot for an A, she'll be grateful, surprised, and will feel less awkward. Because another thing Miss Gilmore is feeling right now is probably worry that because she has been paired with you, she'll fail the project. Prove her wrong, Tris; I know you can."

Tristan absorbed this information and looked forward to following it. And for the first time in his life he felt as though he was close to someone, and that someone was his brother._ My best friend. My confidante. My brother._

(…)

The receding murmurs of the kids filing out of the school joined the hubbub and the general chaos of the end of the day as everyone sprinted for the main doors and pushed their way outside. Rory wisely waited by her locker and didn't let herself get carried away by the crowds, waiting for most people, or at least the biggest groups, to leave the building before she herself left. She had always hated mixing herself in with huge crowds like the one pushing its way through the doors, and most definitely wasn't ready to risk some unnecessary bruises here and there, or worse, just to get out of the door first.

She clutched her backpack to her chest with one hand and held onto her open locker door with the other, and resisted the pull of the group surging around her. For a moment Rory closed her eyes tightly and imagined that she was in the middle of an ant hill, just a single insect among thousands, insignificant, overlooked…

The moment of peace was broken as a familiar voice called to her. The phrase, perhaps the key phrase, it could be called, that was used many times to make her jump, was repeated once again…"Hey, Mary."

Rory slowly turned around to face a single boy, his hands in his pockets, the only person left in the once-crowded corridor aside from her. No, this was no Tucker pretending to be Tristan; this was the real deal. "Tristan." She said it simply, not knowing what else to say to this certainly unexpected figure appearing out of the blue after a day of absence.

He grinned at her, but this time even her mind couldn't warp it into 'a cocky smirk'. It was a smile, plain and simple. Tristan DuGrey was smiling at her. And then she remembered the kiss and had to resist the urge to run, holding on tightly to her locker door as though it were a life-line, her knees threatening to collapse underneath her. Tristan must have seen her turn red.

"I mean Rory," he said very softly, in a way which she would have interpreted as seducing if he had moved closer, which he didn't. Her second reaction was surprise; Tristan was correcting himself! And about her name, too, something he usually substituted with an annoying 'Mary' to purposefully bother her.

"Listen, I just wanted to clarify; your house, tomorrow, researching. Right?" he asked her, pulling his hands out of his pockets and hesitating, as though trying to think of a place to put them aside from his pockets. Rory was surprised once more; Tristan hadn't come over to tease her, to flirt with her, or even to embarrass her. No, he'd come to clarify on the subject of _schoolwork_.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow, my house, at around…Is twelve-o'clock OK with you?" She let go of her locker door and clutched her orange backpack tighter, feeling her cheeks pale from red to their normal color as she realized that Tristan was here, honestly, for nothing else than simple schoolwork verification.

"Yeah, that's cool with me," he told her in a sort of offhand manner. Rory smiled before she could stop herself and almost giggled aloud: Tristan may be acting honest and proper, but above all else he must preserve his 'coolness'.

He seemed glad that she was smiling and no longer looked so awkward. "Oh, before you go," Rory called to his retreating back. "Why weren't you at school today?" She peered at him curiously as he turned back around to face her and shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets once more.

"I…uh…had some work to do," he told her. He looked at her for a few moments longer, and then broke the gaze and turned to leave once again. Rory was feeling doubtful as to how true that statement was, though she felt as though a tiny seed of trust was growing inside her, nurtured by the light and water of Tristan's new attitude towards her.

(…)

"So…How did it go?" Robert asked, trying to suppress his eagerness as they drove back to the mansion, Tristan sitting beside his brother and fidgeting in his car-seat as though there were ants in his jeans. Robert looked away from the road momentarily to take a peek at his brother's face.

"Well…I think it went well. She looked really out-of-place at first, but then it seemed as though she cooled down and…accepted me. Is that good?" Tristan peered at his brother uncertainly, his legs moving from side to side unconsciously as a gesture of anxiousness.

Robert smiled at how much this girl seemed to mean to his brother. Had Lorelai ever meant that much to him? He couldn't remember, but he didn't think so. His infatuation with Lorelai had been…infatuation. Tristan's attachment to this girl, this Rory, seemed like love. "Yes, that's good," he told his brother quietly, noting the pleased smile that spread across Tristan's face.

The simple phrase, "Yes, that's good," pertained to so many things in Robert's life. Helga, his family, his position in life now, his brother, his feelings, his respect for himself. And he hoped, sincerely, that someday it would relate to more things in Tristan's life than it did now. And he found that he cared, more than he would have thought, about Tristan, his brother. He cared that his brother got the life, the end result, he wanted, though it might come to him in an unexpected way. He cared about Tristan. It should be a natural thing; brother caring for brother. Unfortunately it wasn't, or hadn't been, in their case, as they had never seen each other before until recently. But now, after a few days, things seemed to be going well. Robert had a wife, a child, a family, happiness…and now he had a brother as well. _My brother, _he thought, noting how much pride was put into those two words. _My brother. _


	9. You Can't Convince Me

My Brother

**Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

**Setting: See first chapter.**

**Note: Ode to reviews!**

_Ding-Dong!_

At the sound of the doorbell ringing, Rory froze in the middle of straightening the covers on their living-room couch. Crap. He was here. Tristan was here! Already! Was she ready? Everything that needed to be done to prepare for his arrival was done, she noted with evident relief. But…was she ready mentally? Rory sighed as she realized that she probably wasn't. But would she ever be ready to have Tristan DuGrey in her house?

Lorelai was at the inn, as Saturday was one of their busy days, and that was one less thing to worry about when inviting Tristan in. _"Hello, Tristan! This here is my mother, Lorelai, who you probably know from the rumor, which was true, that she kissed my teacher. Tristan, meet Lorelai, Lorelai, meet Tristan!" _Rory hadn't even realized what a relief it was that her mother couldn't be there to meet Tristan, as much as she respected and loved her sometimes wild Mom. Another thing taken care of, then.

Realizing and acknowledging that she would never be ready to have Tristan in her house, so why hesitate, Rory walked over to the door and opened it. Tristan stood there with a book, borrowed from the school library, about Mayans in his hand. In the other hand he clutched a notebook and pencil. He was, most surprisingly, ready to get to work. "Hey Rory," he greeted her with a grin. She nodded to acknowledge him but didn't feel up to saying anything quite yet.

They stood facing each other awkwardly in the living room. Tristan looked around and then, after a pause, helpfully asked, "Can I take a seat?" Rory hurriedly confirmed that he could and should, then sat down next to him at the small living room table resting in front of the couch. They looked at each other for a few more moments over the open textbooks, and then Rory cleared her throat.

There seemed nothing much to do other than study, which they were here for in the first place anyway, so she proposed it. Tristan nodded quickly and they both bent over the text-books. They sat next to each other, each scanning the pages about Mayans, occasionally looking up to peek at the other, for half an hour. Eventually they got to writing down notes and discussing things concerning Mayans and the project. Tristan wasn't trying to flirt with her or make her uncomfortable at all. It seemed to be going well so far.

And then, while Rory was leaning over to write something in one of her notebooks, Tristan's arm swept against the side of her arm and she nearly jumped out of her skin, surprised at the warmth of his skin against hers and the shiver it produced. Oh no. What was wrong with her?

After hastily scribbling down the notes in her notebook, she looked up and her eyes met Tristan's piercing blue ones. Again, she shivered, and quickly looked down at her lap. Why was he making her react that way?

After a few more hours of jumping at his touch, his eye contact, and his voice, the clock struck five-o'clock. Lorelai would be home soon, and it was time to tell Tristan to go back to his home. They had, she was shocked to acknowledge, gotten a lot done, though.

"Uh, Tristan, you should probably go now. My mom will be coming home, and it's getting late…" He nodded his assent, helping her out, and she blushed, staring into her lap, as she realized how lame she'd sounded. _Tristan really is changing, _she thought with surprise as the sudden realization overcame her. _He's becoming more productive and acting as though he really wants to get an A+ on this project the same way I do. Who would ever think that Tristan…_

She looked up for the second time that day at Tristan, her cheeks still a little red as the aftereffect of her recent blush, her eyes glazed over in thought, and as she did her eyes met his, warm and blue now for some reason. His face was dangerously close and he was coming closer, as though he wanted to kiss her again. Rory panicked at the thought and fell backward on the couch, her head hitting one of the armrests. _Ouch. _

She lay there looking up at him with wide eyes while he sat perfectly still as though afraid of alarming her further, his own eyes just as startled as her own. They stared at each other for a while, and then he coughed and looked away as though embarrassed. Rory's cheeks turned bright red and she quickly sat up straight as she realized fully what had just happened. And what had just _not _happened. What had very nearly happened.

"You had better get going," Rory told him quietly, standing up and taking the papers lying on the table in front of them, tucking them into a folder marked **Mayans**. He nodded hurriedly, as flushed as she was, and got up as well, picking up the book and notebook he'd brought and heading toward the door. Rory found herself longing for the tension that usually existed between them. Anything to replace the awkwardness drifting lazily around the room.

"Uh, Rory…how do you…" Tristan made as though to turn the doorknob but it wouldn't budge. He looked back at her with a weak smile and shrugged to show that he needed help. She stood up and walked over to him, kicked the door, turned the door-knob, opened the stubborn door, and held gallantly for him. "Thanks," he mumbled as he walked out of the house and onto the porch. She nodded distractedly.

She wasn't expecting what he would do next, and so was startled as she felt lips pressed gently against hers. Her eyes flew upward and met those of Tristan, laughing back at her. She didn't pull away.

Instead, Rory softly pushed him backward and he took her hint, backing away from her and breaking the contact between their lips. He looked down at his feet in shame but she found herself oddly calm. She looked up at the sky, at the fluffy white clouds drifting along as though they had nothing to do, nothing to worry about, which they didn't, of course, because they were clouds. Ageless, careless…lifeless.

The deep, everlasting blue of the sky helped to calm her. Whatever happened, the sky would always stay blue, Rory realized. You could depend on that. It might turn dark blue with anger as a storm raged above, ripping it apart violently, or deep, velvety blue during the night, speckled with tiny lights that glimmered back at you mockingly. '_We're so high, so free, and look at you! Trapped, stuck to the earth you walk on!' _they had always seemed to call down to her. But no matter what happened, the sky would be blue. If someday something happened and it changed color, Rory decided, that was when she would begin to worry.

Finally, she looked back at Tristan, knowing she had the strength, and found him gazing wistfully at her. She took a deep breath. "No, Tristan. Please. I don't want…don't want anything so intimate between us. So please, please stop trying to build on something that isn't there. I have Dean…and you have…" Rory chuckled softly to herself. "the world. I'm sure that what you're feeling for me can't be so deep that you'll mourn it forever when you have all the other girls in the world at your…disposal. You'll fall in love with someone else. Not that you were ever _in love _with me. But just know that I'm one of those few that don't want to have a relationship with Tristan DuGrey. And you can't convince me that somewhere deep inside I do." She closed the door, hiding from him the tears that were threatening to cascade down her face and make her words sound misguided.

As she leaned against the sturdy wood of her front door, Rory heard Tristan exhale sadly from outside. "That's where you're wrong," he mumbled, thinking she didn't hear him but needing to say it anyway. "I won't fall in love with someone else, because none of those girls that you say would gladly get down on their knees for me are notable. Not after I saw you." She listened to his retreating footsteps and the rev of his engine as he took off with tears streaming down her face, feeling utterly confused.

(…)

"…and she said, 'you can't convince me that somewhere deep inside I do'," Tristan finished morosely, looking up to see Robert's reactions. His brother looked melancholy, though not surprised. Robert sighed deeply and planted a fake smile on his wise face.

"Well, Tristan…I'm sure she means it." Tristan looked crestfallen, but Robert wasn't even done speaking. "I'm sure she means it when she says that you can't convince her that she feels something, however small, for you. Only she can do that, and you have to give her time. From what you said, it seems as though she _does _feel something for you, but it confuses her and she doesn't want to feel it at all. She wants to maintain her steady relationship with this Dean, a reliable boy who won't surprise her and will always stay the same; gentle, caring, loving, jealous of anyone who tries to approach her…and boring. But I also think that there's a big chance that someday she will have the courage to look deep and she'll see what's there, if she doesn't bury it too deeply to be fond at all first. Although that may never happen at all. She may decide that all she wants and needs is a simple life with no surprises. No fun, as I see it." Robert took a deep breath and said, softly, "That was my decision." Then he went back to talking about Rory. "And nothing you can do now will influence her. It's up to her whether she decides to stay with her unchanging Dean or risk a relationship with someone like you. And I don't advise trying to change _for_ her. _No one is worth changing yourself for no matter what you think. _You _must _hang onto your own identity, the personality that makes you you, no matter what. Because someday it may be all that you have left, Tristan." Robert sighed again and there was a sad smile on his all of a sudden worn-out face as he added, "Not to sound too gloomy."

Tristan nodded thoughtfully, grateful to his brother once again for his sage counsel and guidance. He nodded, smiled weakly in return, and retreated to his room with a, "Thanks, Robert." He doubted that he would ever be content with someone else after he'd met Rory, but his brother's words were no doubt true. Rory was going through a delicate stage of her life, no matter how corny it sounded to say it, and his role wasn't what she needed. It made her panic and rear like a horse to think that she may have feelings for a wild boy like him when all she thought she wanted was a calm yet loving relationship with Dean and a secured position at her beloved Harvard. Someday, it was true, she would crave the company of someone like him, someone who was a bit of a rebel and who sent her heart thumping. And he would be there, ready, when that was what she wanted. But for now, he couldn't change her mind. He had to let her go through her stages, let her live her life, without him, no matter how much it may hurt.

**A/N: So what do you think with this recent turn of events? Please tell me! Review! See that button right there, so close that it would be no effort at all to press it...?**


End file.
